ind-picture of a Being full of love, sorry when His
children do wrong, just in His punishments, but all-forgiving when they
are truly repentant and try to make amends.

In the afternoon Marjory sat in the Braeside pew with Mrs. Forester and
Blanche. Again the preacher's theme was love--"the greatest thing in the
world"--love to the Creator, and, through it, love to all His creatures
great and small. The old man told how love can smooth rough places, can
right wrong, can win battles; how love and kindness attract love and
kindness in return, and how a loving thought, word, or action is never
lost. The words she heard that day sank deeply into Marjory's mind. They
were full of hope and encouragement for all, and she felt something of
that spirit which prompted the poet to sing so joyously,--

"God's in His heaven; all's right with the world."

Service over, they walked back to Braeside. It was a pretty walk across
a bit of moorland, through the heather and bracken, here and there a
moss-grown rock, here and there across the path a tiny trickling stream
with stepping-stones.

"Did you have to ask the doctor very hard to make him let Marjory come,
mother?" asked Blanche as they walked along.

"Not very hard," replied her mother, smiling. "I explained to him that
we always keep our Sundays quietly, enjoying the day of rest, but that
at the same time we like it to be bright and happy; and when I told him
that the pleasure of our friends' company would greatly add to the
brightness and happiness, he said 'yes' for Marjory, and promised to
come himself."

When they arrived at Braeside they found the doctor already there. Mr.
Forester and he had established themselves under a shady tree on the
lawn, both looking the picture of comfort, smoking their pipes, and
talking together like old friends.

Marjory felt almost bewildered by the turn things had taken. Truly they
were different, both for herself and for her uncle.

Tea was brought into the garden, and they all had it together, the girls
waiting upon their elders. It was all so peaceful and happy that Marjory
found it hard to tear herself away when the time came, but she consoled
herself with the thought that there was to-morrow to look forward to
now. Hitherto she had always disliked Monday. It was the day for the
washing to be counted, for one thing, and Lisbeth was always rather
flustered in consequence, although the counting of it was all she had to
do, as a wom